


Peeling Bandaids Off Sunburns

by catpawz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Reunions, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 22:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11367132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpawz/pseuds/catpawz
Summary: My gift for shimadacesting over on Tumblr!Genji and Hanzo reuinite in Nepal after the events of "Dragons." Genji has long since forgiven his brother for the wounds he inflicted, but Hanzo struggles to do the same.





	Peeling Bandaids Off Sunburns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shimadacesting (tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shimadacesting+%28tumblr%29).



“Think on that, brother.”

It had been months since Hanzo had visited Shimada castle to honor his brother, and those months had been filled with a myriad of emotions. Pain, sorrow, confusion, anger, oh so much anger. Hanzo had attempted to finish his ritual after the assassin had left, but it was to no avail. All he could think of while he should have been honoring his brother’s life was just how  _ gaudy _ that exit was. The assassin had disappeared in a cloud of smoke, just like the exits of ninjas in television shows and video games. He thought of how precise the assassin’s attacks and parries had been, how he had darted and jumped about the dojo to escape Hanzo’s arrows.

All of it, the exit, the attacks, the way the cyborg moved, they were all so… so  _ Genji _ -like.

But that was impossible. That assassin was not Hanzo’s brother, there was simply no way. No matter what he had said, Hanzo knew better than to believe him, or believe his own eyes (how had the assassin managed that— controlling the dragons, altering his appearance to look just as Genji had?). His brother was dead, killed by Hanzo’s own sword ten years ago.

So, if all that was true, if the assassin was some sort of imposter, why was he chasing after him?

This pursuit was meaningless; Hanzo knew he would gain nothing by tracking the assassin down, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. Hanzo moved from town to town, asking the locals for any information they might have had on Genji’s— no, the  _ assassin’s _ location. A cyborg, or an omnic that looked just like a human would, covered in white plating and bright green vents. A long hair-tie flowing from a hole in the back of his helmet, with a pattern eerily similar to Hanzo’s own hair-tie. Two swords on his back. Has anyone seen someone matching that description? He would certainly stand out in a crowd.

As it would turn out, he  _ didn’t _ . Of course, the cyborg was an assassin, he knew how to move around without being noticed.

It was weeks into his search when Hanzo finally got an answer, from an omnic monk sharing the views of the Shambali to anyone willing to stop and listen. Hanzo had heard of the organization, but despite Japan’s large omnic population, had never really given them much mind. He wouldn’t have walked up to the omnic at all, but he apparently came from Nepal, and had surely travelled to many places around the globe to speak. Perhaps he had seen the assassin who had attacked Hanzo.

“Ah, you must mean Genji!” The monk looked pleased, as pleased as one who could not make any facial expressions could look. Hanzo shifted uncomfortably in response. Yet another bit of proof that the assassin really was his brother, and yet Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

“Yes,” he said simply, trying to keep the discomfort out of his voice. “Genji.”

“I saw him back at our monastery in Nepal just before I left. You may find him there.” An odd mixture of anxiety and excitement filled Hanzo at the omnic’s words, making his stomach lurch and heart soar. But then the monk continued, “but that was near two weeks ago, and Genji has left the monastery often since he learned to accept himself. In fact, he was just here in Japan not but a—”

“Yes, I am aware,” Hanzo said abruptly. He didn’t need to hear any more proof that the assassin and his brother were one and the same.

“Oh!” The omnic cocked his head, “Perhaps you are from Hanamura? That was the city Genji visited during his time here.”

This omnic was awfully talkative, Hanzo decided. “I am from Hanamura; I saw Genji there. I was hoping to finish a conversation we started.”

“Ah, how intriguing! In that case, I hope you find him.” With another respectful bow of his head, the omnic turned away to answer questions of nearby humans. Hanzo breathed a sigh of relief, more than glad to be free of that conversation.

He knew what he had to do, then. Nepal was a long way away, but if there was a chance, even a small one, that Hanzo could find the assassin there, or even learn more about his whereabouts, then it would be well worth the journey.

* * *

It was a week later when Hanzo arrived at the monastery. Unfortunately, despite the group’s apparent popularity, there was no easy way to travel to the temple. Hanzo had no choice but to hike through the mountains of Nepal, the entire time cursing the assassin under his breath for bringing Hanzo out this far. If he wasn’t at the monastery, then—

“Hanzo? Is that you?”

Hanzo turned towards the robotic voice, and his breath caught in his throat, “Genji.”

There, standing behind him, was the assassin, Genji, currently sans face mask. Hanzo stared into his eyes, he couldn’t seem to look away, and a wave of emotions washed over him. The assassin’s face and Genji’s truly were so similar. Was it possible they were truly the same person? Had Genji really survived?

“I was hoping you’d forgive yourself one day, but I never would have thought you would come here to do so,” Genji smiled, bright white teeth clashing with the metallic ones of his cybernetic lower jaw. “Great minds think alike, eh?”

“You…”

“Fine, I’ll admit, I didn’t actually come here of my own will,” Genji laughed lightly and stepped closer, feet falling silently on the snow. “You’re more willing to go through this process than I ever was. Perhaps there really is hope for you. But enough about me. It has been so  _ long _ , brother, just look at you!”

“Genji, I—…”

“Look at  _ this _ !” Genji reached out and tapped a finger against the piercing through the bridge of Hanzo’s nose. “And your hair! I never thought I’d say this, but you look  _ damn _ cool!”

“I— I—“ Hanzo couldn’t look away from Genji’s jaw, now covered in a thin layer of armor. He remembered how it had felt when it shattered as he slammed into it with the hilt of his sword. The first wound he had inflicted that night. He had just wanted his brother to  _ shut up _ , shut up with all the talk of his friends, his lovers, how little he cared for running the Shimada Clan even after the death of their father. He didn’t even realize he had drawn his sword until he saw it crashing across Genji’s face.

“What inspired all this?” Genji gestured to no particular part of Hanzo’s appearance, and Hanzo’s eyes darted to his right arm, armored just like his left but Hanzo knew that there was nothing underneath the armor and synthetic skin, nothing but tubes and wires and machinery most likely. Hanzo had cut it off himself, quickly, cleanly, just as his brother had been going to draw his own weapon. He remembered how the blood had sprayed upward with the motion of Hanzo’s sword, and then outward as the arm fell, limp, to the ground. He remembered how his brother had shrieked in pain.

And then came his legs. Genji was a coward, and Hanzo had known he would try to run. He had managed to cut them both off in one swoop, and he remembered feeling a sick sense of satisfaction at his accuracy and skill.

Hanzo’s eyes went back to his brother’s face, tracing over the numerous scars covering near every inch of skin. As soon as Genji was on the ground, Hanzo pulled out his bow and took aim, and bright blue light surrounded him. The dragons curled around one another, roaring and growling over Genji’s cries, and they collided into his half-body. Hanzo only watched for a moment, watched the bits of skin and small sprays of blood flying from Genji’s violently quivering form as the dragons tore him apart.

And then, Hanzo turned away, tuning out Genji’s anguished screams. He didn’t need to watch any longer to know that the dragons would kill him, and if they didn’t, the other wounds certainly would. There was no way anyone could survive such an attack.

Absolutely none.

His brother was dead. Hanzo had killed him.

“…brother?” Genji had picked up on his brother’s silence, concern now plastered over his face as he studied Hanzo’s expression, one that was surely nigh unreadable and not because Hanzo was hiding his emotions well, but because there were simply too many to read.

“You are not my brother,” Hanzo spat out quietly, almost inaudibly, hands clenching into fists.

“Hanzo, are you—“

Hanzo cut him off, “I do not know what you are, creature, but you are not Genji!” And with that, Hanzo stormed off, leaving the assassin, the demon in his brother’s skin, alone in the snowy entrance of the monastery.

* * *

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Hanzo had been here for two now, studying the ways of the monks and meditating with them.

He wasn’t sure what lead him to stay after his original encounter with Genji, but he was glad he had, as much as he loathed to admit it. It took him a full week before he could tolerate Genji’s presence, three before he started allowing himself to enjoy his brother’s company again. Hanzo wasn’t sure when, but at some point, he realized that this cyborg really was his brother, that Genji had survived that night.

“It was all thanks to Overwatch,” Genji had explained one night, while the two sat outside in the freezing cold, staring up at the stars, as they often did. “And Dr. Ziegler. She saved me, made me into what I am today.”

Hanzo would repay Overwatch for returning his brother to him he decided, one day.

They spent countless hours talking about what had happened to them both in the ten years they had been apart. Hanzo explained to Genji the piercings and haircut (“After I saw you, I altered my appearance so I could travel without attracting the attention of my enemies.”), and Genji found it sweet that Hanzo had changed his look so much simply to find him. Genji told him all the things he had done with Overwatch, how he had left after destroying the Shimada Clan. With his primary goal fulfilled, he didn’t need Overwatch anymore. He ran into the monks here, Zenyatta specifically, and had learned more about his humanity than he ever would have thought possible.

But, most importantly, he said, with one of the classic smiles Hanzo had seen plastered on his face nearly the entirety of Genji’s youth, he learned how to forgive, and that was a better lesson than any other.

Something about that left Hanzo uneasy. He was doing much better now, yes: he had finally accepted this cyborg as his brother, had long since made himself comfortable here at the monastery, and had even fallen into an easy routine of meditation and enlightening conversations with the many omnic monks. And yet, despite it all, he had not quite forgiven himself.

And who could blame him? Genji had nearly died that night, all because of Hanzo, all because of his blind dedication to his elders and the Clan. Every time Hanzo looked at him he was reminded of that, every time he saw the unnatural way Genji’s vents glowed in the dark, or how they’d release steam to keep his circuits from freezing over in the cold. Genji would remove his legs or right arm occasionally, idly talking to Hanzo as he performed basic repairs or maintenance checks, and Hanzo could never tear his eyes away from the limbs on the table, the wires running through the inside, the metal plating protecting important chips or the synthetic skin that stretched over it.

Genji may have thought of himself as just as human as Hanzo, but that simply wasn’t the case. Genji was a machine now, he would never be truly human.

And it was all Hanzo’s fault.

How could Genji possibly forgive him for ruining his body?

It almost made Hanzo angry sometimes, to hear Genji talk about the things he learned. How he had a “soul” just like other humans, how nothing but his appearance had changed and that he was still the same on the inside, that he really, truly forgave Hanzo. It was bullshit, all of it. Hanzo wanted to grab Genji’s shoulders (one mechanical – Hanzo still remembered how it had felt to slice through Genji’s flesh) and shake him until he understood just what had happened, that he wasn’t human, that he didn’t have a soul of any sort, that Hanzo had destroyed his life and never deserved forgiveness.

Sometimes, Hanzo wished Genji had killed him when they had last encountered one another in the temple. He had betrayed his family countless times now, and was long since beyond redemption. Death was the best option for him. Why did Genji not understand that?

He was likely too lost in his little fantasy world, where Hanzo had somehow reclaimed his honor and forgave himself, and then they could live happily ever after back in Japan, somewhere secluded.

Now  _ that _ —… was actually a nice thought. Hanzo found himself thinking on it often.

“Hanzo?” Genji cocked his head to the right, looking over Hanzo’s face in search for any sign that his brother was actually listening to him. “Your tea is getting cold.”

“Hm?” Hanzo blinked once, twice, as he slipped out of his thoughts, and looked down at his tea. “Oh, right.” He sipped at his tea. Genji was right, it was lukewarm at best now, more likely the fault of the chilly air around them than Hanzo’s own inattentiveness in drinking it.

Genji stared as he drank, clearly not content with how Hanzo had responded, “Is something wrong?”

“I am just… thinking.”

“You do that a lot.”

“I have a lot to think about.”

“Hmm,” Genji hummed, and took a sip of his own tea, “I suppose that’s true.”

They lapsed into silence then, but something hung in the air. Genji seemed to be unsure about Hanzo’s answer, which made sense in Hanzo’s opinion. Genji was horribly curious about the progress Hanzo was making in forgiving himself, it always worried him when Hanzo slipped into deep thought. Hanzo wasn’t entirely sure why, how could he forgive himself if he couldn’t think on his actions? Then again, thinking on his actions had only lead him to conclude he was entirely undeserving of forgiveness, so perhaps Genji had a point.

“What are you thinking about?” Genji spoke up a few moments later, breaking the silence between them.

Hanzo desperately wanted to spill everything to Genji, ever uncertainty he had, every question he had over how Genji had ever thought to forgive him, the flashbacks, the dreams he had of plunging his own sword into his stomach—

Instead, he grunted and said, “nothing that would interest you, I’m sure.”

But Genji was interested. He set his tea cup down in the snow beside him and moved closer to Hanzo, “try me.”

“I’d rather not,” Hanzo responded curtly, voice tense, and took another sip of his tea. Why did Genji have to be so  _ nosy _ ? They were supposed to be enjoying the evening together, not picking at one another’s deepest fears.

“Hanzo—…” Genji sighed, in a tone of voice eerily like their fathers, laced with disappointment and the knowledge that Hanzo wasn’t telling the entire truth. Suddenly, Hanzo felt like a young child again, having just broken an expensive vase and desperately trying to blame it on a wild bird that had swooped in through an open window.

“It is nothing, really,” Hanzo snapped now, huffing out his answer and turning to glare at his brother. “Must you be so curious about something that doesn’t concern you?” Now there was a lie if Hanzo had ever told one, and he rarely did. His entire mind was filled with Genji. Stupid, insufferable Genji.

“I’m not entirely convinced,” Genji stated the obvious.

Hanzo huffed again, and put his cup of tea down into the snow beside him, “I’m going inside. It is late.”

“Do you want me to walk in with you?”

“No.” Hanzo stood, not bothering to stretch out his chilled limbs before turning on his heels and marching through the snow towards the monastery. He didn’t want to spend another minute in his brother’s presence, he feared he’d snap, admit everything, and then what? Genji would shun him most likely, for refusing to not forgive himself.

Unfortunately for Hanzo, Genji seemed to want just that.

“Hanzo!” Genji took hold of Hanzo’s arm, metal fingers so cold, Hanzo could feel it even through the thick layer of fabric covering his skin. “What has gotten into you?”

“I keep telling you, it’s—“

“Don’t tell me it’s ‘nothing’, I know it’s not nothing,” Genji’s grip loosened ever so slightly, and Hanzo took the opportunity to wrench his arm out from Genji’s hold. However, he couldn’t bring himself to turn and run. Maybe he wanted to snap just as badly as Genji wanted him to.

“You can tell me anything, brother, you know that,” Genji said softly, with an almost sad look in his eyes.

“…You’d think of me as a fool, if I were to tell you.”

“Oh please,” Genji grinned, but the sad look remained. “What did you do? Snap a little bit of the stick in your ass off?”

“I do not have a—!” Hanzo hissed, mouth tightening into a thin line as he cut himself off, and Genji laughed.

“Do not try to deny it, Hanzo, you and I both know the truth,” Genji reached up and rested his hand against Hanzo’s shoulder. “Now, tell me what’s the matter. I can help you, but only if you let me.”

A long moment of silence passed then, as Hanzo thought over his options. Genji seemed more than willing to give him the time. To tell Genji the truth… it seemed like the best thing to do, but Hanzo knew Genji would brush off his concerns as if they were nothing. He didn’t understand the gravity of what Hanzo had done to him, despite being the one affected by Hanzo’s actions the most. But to keep it to himself? Genji wouldn’t forget Hanzo’s strange behavior any time soon, Hanzo likely wouldn’t be allowed to keep anything to himself for very long.

Either tell Genji the truth now, or be bothered about it until he was forced to admit it. Those were his options.

Best to get it over with, he supposed.

“I cannot forgive myself,” he said finally, and his shoulders slumped down slightly. There, it was out. Surely Genji would leave him alone.

But Genji looked confused, “Well, of course not.”

Hanzo furrowed his brows together, “Wh—what do you mean, ‘of course not’?”

“Hanzo, you’ve only been here for two months!” Genji smiled. He looked relieved, as if what had come out of Hanzo’s mouth was the best case scenario. “It’ll take time before you can fully process everything that happened, even longer for you to begin to forgive yourself for it. You always told me to be patient, why don’t you try it out for yourself, hm?”

Ah, so that was what had happened.

“You misunderstand,” Hanzo responded. “I cannot forgive myself not because it seems impossible, but because I refuse.”

“Um,” Genji was still smiling, but it was faltering now. “What?”

“I refuse to forgive myself for what I did to you,” Hanzo said, calmly, despite how loudly his heart beat in his chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you failed to understand where I am coming from, but you could at least make an attempt.”

“Hanzo, you—“

“Let me talk,” Hanzo interrupted, emotion now squeezing in between his words. “You were so desperate to pull this information out of me before. I—“ he coughed, trying to clear the lump from his throat, but failed, “I have thought long and hard on what happened ten years ago, what I did to you, and I have come to the conclusion that I do not deserve forgiveness. I did not want to tell you because I was worried you wouldn’t take me seriously.”

“Of— of course I couldn’t take that seriously!” Genji gaped, and Hanzo was surprised by just how upset he seemed to be. “You completely deserve forgiveness, Hanzo, what could have possibly lead you to think any other way?”

“Perhaps you do not understand the gravity of my actions—“

“ _ I  _ don’t understand?” Genji pulled his hand away from Hanzo’s shoulder and gestured over himself, “I’m not sure if you noticed, but  _ I  _ happen to be the one you nearly killed.”

“Yes, that may be true, however—“

“’ _ May _ be true,’ it’s entirely true! You nearly killed me, but you  _ didn’t _ —,” Genji sighed, and suddenly a solemn look crossed his face. “You didn’t do it out of any personal desire to hurt me, I know that now. The Elders, and the Clan, it wasn’t good for either of us.” He paused then, and when Hanzo didn’t respond, continued, “You are hardly to blame for what happened, and what even happened? My body was destroyed, but I’ve been rebuilt, and I’m no different than I was before.”

Hanzo flinched then, face darkening. What an absolute  _ idiot _ .

“You truly think nothing has changed,” Hanzo grit out. He crossed his arms and took a tight grip on his biceps.

“I know nothing has changed. I’m still human—“

“You’re  **not** ,” Hanzo nearly choked on the words, “you’re not human!”

The words rang in the air, and Hanzo almost regretted saying them. Genji’s expression betrayed nothing of what he was feeling, but the cracking voice with which he responded did.

“You don’t mean that.”

Clearly his humanity was a sensitive topic for him. It only made sense, he was grasping at straws trying to convince himself he was still just as human as he was before Hanzo destroyed him. How could he possibly be sure in his humanity?

“I do,” Hanzo responded, fingers twitching. “I destroyed whatever humanity you had with my dragons!”

“That’s not true.”

“It  _ is _ ,” Hanzo hissed. “You’re nothing but a machine now, and it’s all. My. Fault!”

“Hanzo—“

“Don’t try and speak to me now, Genji! There is nothing you could say to convince me otherwise.” Hanzo was shaking. He didn’t realize it was so cold out. “Don’t you get it? I destroyed your body, your soul, everything! Your life will never be the same, your thoughts, your feelings, your— even your voice sounds different, now.”

Hanzo took a shaky breath. Was he crying? No, no, he wasn’t.

“Father— Father always told me to protect you, to watch over you when he was gone, and I  _ failed _ him. And then I fled after I hurt you and failed the Clan. But— but worst of all, I— I failed y— _ you _ .”

Hanzo sobbed. Oh. So he was crying.

“I— I love you, Genji. More than you could ever possibly know, and all I could think of when the Elders gave me orders to stop your partying was how wonderful it’d be, to rule the Shimada Clan by your side, to just  _ be _ with you, and yet you— you refused.” Another shaky breath followed by a sob. God, he really was a mess. “And you went on and on about your parties and your games and your  _ lovers _ and I— I was so jealous. And I let my emotions carry me away, and I hurt you, all because of— all because of—“

Hanzo wasn’t even sure how to describe it. A crush? Perhaps, but that almost sounded childish, irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

“I—“

Passion, maybe. Passion has lead people to do horrible things before. It was all over TV, in movies, novels.

“How could you— possibly forgive me, for all that?” Hanzo looked up at Genji, but his eyes were so filled with tears, he couldn’t quite make him out. His snow white armor and silver markings almost made him blend into the beautiful structures and scenery of Nepal’s monastery.  

Genji didn’t respond. He took a silent step forward, and suddenly Hanzo felt Genji’s arms snaking under his own and wrapping around his back. He allowed himself to be pulled into the hug, curled tightly into Genji’s freezing chest, sobbing loudly all the while.

“You idiot,” Genji muttered into the crown of his head, “I love you, too.”

Hanzo wailed at his words, and cried until his world went dark.

* * *

“You appear to be much more open to our teachings as of late, my student,” the omnic, Tenzin, said, looking Hanzo over. “I must say, I am pleased!”

“Yes,” Hanzo nodded, rolling his shoulders. “I have been doing quite a bit of thinking lately. I… I wish to forgive myself, truly.”

“Good, good!” Tenzin nodded, and looked down at his scrolls. “I noticed Genji seems much happier lately as well. You two truly are wonderful brothers.” There was an odd gleam in his eyes, and Hanzo had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, about what had happened between Hanzo and Genji.

“I like to think so.” Hanzo agreed. “We complement one another well.”

“Truly!” Carefully, Tenzin began rolling his scrolls back up. “Now please, I believe we have done enough for today. It’s beautiful outside, no sense staying crammed up in here. Enjoy yourself, hm?”

“Thank you, Master,” Hanzo stood and bowed, before leaving the room. He could have sworn he heard the monk chuckle to himself as he left, but it didn’t quite faze him. Even if it had, Hanzo had much better things to do with his time.

He stepped carefully into Genji’s room, and, despite his best efforts, was pounced on in an instant. Genji was lightning fast, Hanzo could hardly step within a fifteen foot radius of him without being assaulted by kisses and hugs and sweet, sappy whispers. Truly, it was awful. This time was no different.

Genji’s lips were on his before Hanzo could even blink, and Genji’s arms were around his neck, pulling him fully into the room and holding him close. Hanzo returned both the kiss and the hug with an abundance of affection. Genji’s body was so warm against his, and fit so comfortably, just as it did when they slept together, curled up against Hanzo like he was meant to be there. And Hanzo wouldn’t be surprised if he was.

“I missed you,” Genji muttered against his lips between quick, painfully chaste kisses. He reached up and took hold of the tie keeping Hanzo’s hair in a ponytail, and pulled it loose before burying his fingers in Hanzo’s hair.

“I was only gone for a few hours,” Hanzo chuckled, finally breaking the kiss between them. He smiled down at Genji, who looked almost like a puppy like this, one who had just run to the door to see his master after he had been gone at work all day. Or perhaps a kitten was more accurate, considering the little “ears” on his helmet.

Now there was a nice thought.

“It felt like longer,” Genji admitted, pulling one hand from Hanzo’s hair so he could run the tips of his fingers down Hanzo’s cheek. “I was away from you for ten years. I need to make up as much of that time as possible.”

“Don’t remind me,” Hanzo sighed, taking hold of the hand on his face and lacing their fingers together. “I missed you too.” He took Genji’s hand and placed a light kiss on the top, and Genji blushed. Funny, how experienced Genji was in sex, and yet the smallest gestures of love seemed to make him so embarrassed. Hanzo couldn’t help but think it was adorable.

Like a kitten.

…

Hm.

“I just had a wonderful idea,” Hanzo leaned forward and stole a kiss from his brother once more, hands wandering down Genji’s body.

Genji hummed against his mouth, and pulled back just enough to respond, “I think I like it already.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was originally suppose to have smut but I just couldn't fit it in there ;n;  
> I'm thinking about writing an additional chapter at a later date, however!


End file.
